Time to let go
by an ounce of shag tobacco
Summary: I believe I have waited long enough for Watson. He is being most selfish, taking so long to join me again… Perhaps it is I being selfish. It is time for Watson to let go, so he and Holmes can be together again.


I believe I have waited long enough for Watson. He is being most selfish, taking so long to join me again… Perhaps it is I being selfish. He does not seem happy though, so I believe it is he that is the selfish one. The last time we saw each other properly was nine years ago, one warm July weekend. We prattled on about our goings on; how I had a new hive and Watson had finally sent off the last of our adventures to the Strand. We went on for hours, well into the night and I suppose you could say early morning, sat opposite each other in front of the fire as we so many times when we were young and well in our old rooms in Baker Street. We parted, I to my own chambers and Watson to his. Of course it was his, he was my only visitor. He left on the Monday morning and he never saw me again.

I still see him though, all the time. I ride with him into the village in his motor car, sit by his bed as he sleeps, look over his shoulder as he writes. He struggles a little now; those hands are not as strong as they were when we first met. He stops to clench his fingers, several cracks as bones pop against joints. Oh, how I need him to let go. I want to tell him. I want him to listen, but I know he cannot hear me. He does not even know I am here. How he fights against these strains and pains… He is too stubborn to let go, even for me and yet I know deep down in his tender heart, I know he wants to. He thinks I would want him to fight it. 'Holmes would." He says. "I know times he did." He says. He blames himself for not being there. He shouldn't. He thinks about it all the time, our last encounter, our first encounter and all the moments in between. He tries to stand, his hands grasping firmly at the chair, arms shaking as he attempts to raise himself. It takes him two attempts to get to his feet; evidently, sleep is taking its cruel work. Watson uses the last of his strength to tidy up his papers, scurry to his chambers and bury himself within his sheets. He bothers not to change… Who is to see? He has no landlady, maid, wife… He is completely alone. Yet, he still fights.

He falls to slumber quickly and I watch him, peaceful at first and then more and more restless. Bless him, he still dreams of his time with the Northumberland Fusiliers. He tosses and turns and I sit to comfort him, I soothe him, whisper to him and he calms. "Let go." I tell him. "Please, do not punish yourself." I place my hands on his shoulders, an act of reassurance more than anything else. "I'm waiting for you." I hear a mutter and a gasp.

"Holmes…"

Can he hear me? Or is he simply dreaming?

"My God! Is that really you?"

He can see me. Is it time at last? I reach to him, taking his hand. "Yes, it is." Watson stifles a throaty, coarse laugh from which it takes him a moment to recover.

"You look so young… I must be dreaming. Ha! Ha! I-I can't believe it!" His hands launch forward, feeling at my arms, my face. His eyes are so bright.

"I assure you, this is no dream," I tell him, smiling. I cannot hide my delight! Yes, it meant his life, great life, was coming to an end but an infinite one was to begin. And it would be with me. I see him smiling too and he laughs again, tears in his eyes.

"I cannot believe it."

"You can trust me."

"Can I? You have been dead for nine years… This time I was sure you had died. This time I had a body."

I sigh. "I am, I am… and I am so alone. Come with me." I know he has no choice; however, I want to hear him say it.

"Yes…" He strains. "Yes, of course. Of course I will come with you. Who else is there?"

"Oh everyone! Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, a few of the irregulars… Too young they were, far too young…"

He nods and a solemn look passed over him. "It is good to see you again Holmes." He muttered sleepily, closing his eyes again. I hope he has visitors, I'd hate for his body to be left unnoticed for too long. If I had not have had Martha with me, I would have been quite a state to have been found. Watson is asleep again and so I lie beside him and wait. We will be together soon and loneliness will haunt us no longer.


End file.
